


Legends

by orphan_account



Category: Dan Howell - Fandom, Phan, Phandom, Phil Lester - Fandom, Skyrim, elderscrolls, phanfiction - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-03 06:58:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6601279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil, 19, is a Dark Brotherhood Assassin with a dark past.<br/>Dan, 17, is a honey-worded solo thief from Windhelm.</p><p>Warnings:<br/>Violence, blood, language, alcohol, magic, drugs from Skyrim, <br/>And adult themes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Windhelm, Tirdas, 21 st day of Morning Star, 3E 389**

The cold worn down city was settling down for nightfall. Snow was falling as usual in the castle walled city. Beggars were around the large fires lit next to the main inn. Women walked home, arms intertwined with a male’s. Merchants closed up shops, most stopping by the large two-story inn to get some warm mead and catch up on the town talk.

Inside the tavern was gossip of ‘The Butcher,’ a maniac serial killer in Windhelm. Many young maidens had already been stripped, cut, burned, and chopped up by ‘The Butcher.’ As to who it was, no one knew; however, leaving it to the town guards, it would be faster for everyone in the town to die before they caught the culprit. Though the townspeople did not dare assist the guard in the investigation, they still had suspicions as to who could have done it. “It was the Dark Brotherhood, I’m sure of it.” One would say. “Impossible, they don’t do serial kills. It has to be one of the dark elves getting revenge.” A nord would interject. Talk like this would often start drunken brawls, resulting in those people getting thrown out of the tavern if it got too bad. This is how one smart thief would come into play.

The young imperial would enter the tavern ordering bread and some mead. He would then sit on the bench closest to the door alone, never talking but instead listening intently. When the brown haired boy heard lifted voices and the familiar sound of a fist hitting bone, he would exit the inn. He’d walk to the right, and stand in a small hidden corner, but not far away from the door so he could see people exit. When one, sometimes two drunk people get thrown out, he’d lift his hood of his cape and sneak over them. The boy had such a high sneak skill, barely anyone could hear him, especially if they were drunk. He’d either pickpocket them without them noticing for gold, or he would engage in conversation with them, always sweet talking them, thus tricking them into giving him whatever he wanted.

And at this very moment the drunk nord mentioned earlier was thrown out for fighting, and the thief began his routine.

“I agree with you.” The thief said as he walked out of his hiding spot behind the nord’s back.

“Wh-aa…what you say lad?” he turned ‘round to look into the boy’s brown eyes.

The boy chuckled, “I agree with you. The Dark Brotherhood would never do this type of murder, they’re too organized.”

“Exactly what I s-say, my lad, I oughta buy yous a drink and talk over this. But, but, heh but they throwned me outta here. Damned people.” The nord slurred.

“Here I’ll buy you a drink, I’ve got the coin, just…” the thief looked down, faking worry in his voice.

“What’s holdin’ you back?”

“I’d need to borrow your dagger there.” They boy eyed a shiny enchanted blade, probably a soul gem filling one guessing by the purple glow. Things like that could be sold for big money.

“Wh-why would you need that lad?” he drunkenly held his dagger looking at it trying to piece together why the boy would need it to buy mead.

“Well in case I get attacked silly! The maniac could be in there and I don’t have my weapon, I lost mine.” The thief pulled his cape closer around his hip so the man couldn’t spy his own dagger there.

“Oh, Oh I seeee! Yes here you go, I had it enchanted just today, so it’s even-even full. Bring me back some of that house special mead, and food. I love food.” The nord rambled on as the imperial boy grabbed his dagger, walking into the tavern. He went up the stairs to another exit, swiftly walked out and jumped down the stairs, going the opposite way of the drunken man. He wandered around making sure none were following him and entered a small abandoned-looking building he bought a year ago.

The inside of the house still had cobwebs except for the table and bed. He lit a small candle that emitted enough light to so he could see, but left it dark enough so it wouldn’t be seen through the dirty window on the other side of the room. The boy examined his new dagger debating on whether to learn the enchantment, thus destroying the item or just selling it.

“If I learned the enchantment I could enchant normal weapons and armor to make them worth more, but I can also just steal enchanted items as easily.” The thief whispered to himself. He stood up, grabbing the dagger and went to the south wall of his house. The boy pulled an old candlestick that was on the wall; then a creaking sound was heard as the wall moved, revealing a hidden chamber. Unlike the cobweb-infested home, this chamber was clean and had plenty of light. On the wall were cases upon cases of weapons, books, ingredients, and potions. Three large safes were lined up on the wall to his right, each with a small weapons rack between. In the center of the room was an enchanter’s table and next to it an alchemy lab. He approached the enchanters table and laid the weapon in the center of table. With his hands on either side of the skull that was placed on the enchanter he used what little magic he had learned during his life to show the enchantment. Letters appeared on the enchanter along with a sign lighting up.

“Soul-hem-sorb. Object: gate to Oblivion.” The boy repeated to himself. A gust of wind came and the weapon dissolved along with the letters that appeared, slowly the sign lost its bright light and went back to normal. He reached up to a black journal on a shelf over the enchanter, opening it to reveal enchantment spells he had learned. Grabbing the charcoal next to it, he wrote:

**“Soul-hem-sorb. Object: gate to Oblivion.**

**Effect: If target dies within 60 seconds, it fills a soul gem.”**

To try out his new spell, the imperial grabbed a small soul gem (already filled with a soul) from a bookshelf and an elven dagger out of a display case. He popped his knuckles before taking a deep breath, setting the dagger in the center of the enchanter. He placed his hand on the gate of Oblivion, causing it to light up. He closed his eyes and focused on the spell. “Soul-hem-sorb.” Power went through him and into the object, then a light ran from the object to the center of the table towards the dagger, causing it to light up with a purple aurora. A sound similar to a clash of lightning, but not nearly as loud, sounded and he opened his eyes to see the weapon fully enchanted. The lights on the table went out as he picked up the faintly purple-glowing dagger.

“Perfect.” He admired his handy work before putting it back into the display case. He left the room, pulling the candle stick again to close up the old wall. Feeling tired and drained from the enchanting process he crawled to his cheap old bed, blowing out the candle on the bedside table next to him. He began to fall asleep when the noise of a woman screaming outside about the butcher following her sounded. The imperial boy knew to just ignore it, there was nothing he could do, and half the time it was just a ‘cried wolf’ scenario by homeless trying to get a man to take them inside for the night. He was just a lonely thief who didn’t care about others, if he did, he would have to worry about more than just himself and in no way did he see that it was worth it. So the boy turned over and pulled the blanket up over his ear, quickly falling asleep.

Meanwhile near a town on the other side of Skyrim a pale, young assassin, with piercing blue eyes and long dark hair was receiving a contract to visit the snowy city of Windhelm.    


	2. Two

**_Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary, Falkreath, Tirdas, 21 st day of Morning Star, 3E 389_ **

 

“Phil, you’ve been requested to speak with the listener. She’s got a contract assigned only to you by the night mother.” A lizard like man spoke to the black haired assassin who was reading a book on sneak. The boy looked up to the Argonian man, raising his eyebrow.

“Are you sure it’s me? The only time the night mother specifies people to see the contract done, she’s asked the experienced ones.” Phil laid the book down and looked up to search the Argonian’s eyes for trickery.

“Yes, I’m sure. Hurry up, don’t keep the listener waiting, or she’ll have you for dinner.” The older one sneered to the younger.

Phil got up and trekked through the small sanctuary. The sanctuary itself was built into a cave, guarded by a door only those who knew the answers to its questions could open. Fire pits were located along the corridors giving off much light. Stones were etched with the “Five Tenets” of the Brotherhood, some stained with faint traces of blood.

  * **_**_Never Dishonor the Night mother. To do so is to invoke the wrath of Sithis._**_**


  * **_Never betray the Dark Brotherhood. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis._**


  * **_Never disobey or refuse to carry out an order from a Dark Brotherhood superior. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis._**


  * **_Never steal the possessions of a Dark Brother or Dark Sister. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis._**


  * **_Never kill a Dark Brother or Dark Sister. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis._**



 

Sithis, a deity, is the dread-father. He’s the badest of the bad, and the Brotherhood carries out his wishes. All that join in the murdering group, submit their life to Lord Sithis, and when they die, they do not go to a heaven or hell, but their soul goes to Sithis. He watches over as the Night Mother, a once human, but now ghost, carries out orders to kill for him. Only a select member can hear the Night Mother’s voice, and that would be the listener, who is currently Quest.

Quest is a wood elf archer, deadlier than a poisoned apple. She is the oldest member of the sanctuary, but looks as young as a maiden. When she was 23 she contracted vampirism, and was forced out of her town. The brotherhood took her in and she soon heard a strange whisper, that being the Night Mother. She was crowned listener and the family rejoiced in finding a new listener since the other had been killed in action. One hundred years later and she still is carrying out her duties as listener. Quest heard a knock on her door, judging by the sound it must be that of the young Assassin, Phil.

“Come in, Phil.” At her order the pale boy entered, looking down at his feet in respect and also fear of what could happen. “Relax, youngling. I won’t bite, unless your offering your blood.” She added, licking her teeth.

Phil looked up biting his lower lip. “You called me because of the Night Mother’s wish to use me?”

“Yes, Hun. She chose you, gods know why, to find and kill an individual in Windhelm.”

“W-Windhelm ma’am? Is that north?” Phil sheepishly asked.

“Of course. The place is practically snowing every day and as dark as you could think. My ideal place for another Sanctuary I might add. Have you never travelled?”

“I’ve travelled ma’am just not that far.”

The wood elf nodded, and walked over to a table with a large map on it along with newspaper. She took out the dagger that was stabbed in a mountain on the map.

“Windhelm is here.” She proceeded to sink the dagger into a symbol for a town. “You are to go to Windhelm and kill ‘The Butcher.’” She picked up some newspapers with headlines such as ‘The Butcher Kills again’ and ‘Maidens are no longer safe alone’. “Take these and read them in your own free time if you wish.”

Phil studied the pages in his hands. “So who is ‘The Butcher’?”

“Well kid, I don’t know and it seems the Night Mother wants to have fun and let you figure it all out yourself. So, you’ve gotta solve this mystery before anyone else, or he might be put in prison and that’ll complicate things too much. You will be given 2,000 coin for the travels and for however long you will be staying in Windhelm. You are not to leave the place and come back home until you are finished. If you blotch the contract you will be stuck in here and not trusted with more contracts for a long time. You have only done beginners kills so this is a huge step up, I wish I didn’t have to give you. Don’t. Fuck. This. Up. Kid. You leave tonight at sundown, we will have a carriage waiting next to the tavern in Falkreath. When you get to Windhelm, try asking locals about the murderer, they’ll know the most.” The wood elf went over everything while counting out coin from a chest in her room. The young assassin stood there trying to take in everything without showing fear of what his contract was.

“Why murder a murderer?” IT was a stupid question but Phil had already asked it. Quest froze and looked up to him, making eye contact.

“This murderer is a cattle among us. He is of the dirt and a disgrace to the ways of Sithis. He lacks all technique and goes beyond the limit of humans. And this skunk is being suspected as a member of the dark brotherhood. He must be stopped, and you ARE going to do that. Here is your gold, food is in the pantry. You are dismissed. I want you out of here in an hours’ notice. Good luck kid.” Phil was handed his gold and pushed out of her room. He had one hour to gather everything he needed, and leave his home for what seems to be a long period of time. The corridors no longer looked as welcoming as they did when he walked through just a few minutes before. He began packing once he got to his bed and chest.

He picked up his two ebony daggers, grabbed about 50 silver arrows, and stuffed some health potions in his bag. He made sure he had food, and the gold also packed, along with the newspapers. Taking a deep breath, he stepped outside, climber up the hill through the trees to the main road leading up to Falkreath where he should meet the carriage driver. The sun was just setting and if it wasn’t for the fact he was leaving his home, he would have enjoyed the sounds of everything settling down for the oncoming darkness known as the night.

 


End file.
